I had thought when I fell that I should never wake again; but I woke at last:  for a long time I was quite dizzied and could see nothing at all:  horrible doubts came creeping over me; I half expected to see presently great half-formed shapes come rolling up to me to crush me; some thing fiery, not strange, too utterly horrible to be strange, but utterly vile and ugly, the sight of which would have killed me when I was upon the earth, come rolling up to torment me.  In fact I doubted if I were in hell.

I knew I deserved to be, but I prayed, and then it came into my mind that I could not pray if I were in hell.

Also there seemed to be a cool green light all about me, which was sweet.  Then presently I heard a glorious voice ring outclear, close to me

  “Christ keep the Hollow Land
  Through the sweet spring-tide,
  When the apple-blossoms bless
  The lowly bent hill side.”

Thereat my eyes were slowly unsealed, and I saw the blessedest sight I have ever seen before or since:  for I saw my Love.

She sat about five yards from me on a great grey stone that had much moss on it, one of the many scattered along the side of the stream by which I lay; she was clad in loose white raiment close to her hands and throat; her feet were bare, her hair hung loose a long way down, but some of it lay on her knees:  I said “white” raiment, but long spikes of light scarlet went down from the throat, lost here and there in the shadows of the folds, and growing smaller and smaller, died before they reached her feet.

I was lying with my head resting on soft moss that some one had gathered and placed under me.  She, when she saw me moving and awake, came and stood over me with a gracious smile.  She was so lovely and tender to look at, and so kind, yet withal no one, man or woman, had ever frightened me half so much.

She was not fair in white and red, like many beautiful women are, being rather pale, but like ivory for smoothness, and her hair was quite golden, not light yellow, but dusky golden.

I tried to get up on my feet, but was too weak, and sank back again.  She said:  “No, not just yet, do not trouble yourself or try to remember anything just at present.”

There withal she kneeled down, and hung over me closer.

“To-morrow you may, perhaps, have something hard to do or bear, I know, but now you must be as happy as you can be, quietly happy.  Why did you start and turn pale when I came to you?  Do you not know who I am?  Nay, but you do, I see; and I have been waiting here so long for you; so you must have expected to see me.  You cannot be frightened of me, are you?”

But I could not answer a word, but all the time strange knowledge, strange feelings were filling my brain and my heart, she said:  “You are tired; rest, and dream happily.”

So she sat by me, and sang to lull me to sleep, while I turned on my elbow, and watched the waving of her throat:  and the singing of all the poets I had ever heard, and of many others too, not born till years long after I was dead, floated all about me as she sang, and I did indeed dream happily.